


Cuciniamo, amore mio

by dreamychenle



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, just spain and romano being cute ig, sweet boys cooking together!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-14
Updated: 2020-06-14
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:21:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24708247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamychenle/pseuds/dreamychenle
Summary: Spain and Romano are cooking together, softness ensues..That's it. That's the fic.
Relationships: South Italy/Spain (Hetalia)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 26





	Cuciniamo, amore mio

**Author's Note:**

> hello!!!!! It's been forever since Ive dipped myself in the Hetalia fandom,,, i wrote this last year and forgot to post it,, oof.

Romano blinks rapidly; desperately trying to remove himself from the daze he had currently fallen into.  
  
Now really wasn't the time to get consumed by his thoughts and the rich red liquid trickling down his finger, down his hand and drip drip dripping in tiny splatters on the once pristine white tiles was proof of that.  
  
But then in seemingly no time, without hesitation or a word said, Spain was by his side, carefully taking his bleeding hand into his own and pushing it under the running water.  
  
Romano was still blinking--it was so quick...His body hadn't even reacted appropriately yet as he had yet to feel any pain; He hadn't even realized that he'd sliced into his finger until the blood had started beading out in tiny droplets.  
  
Yet Spain was already there.  
  
"Romano, you have to be more careful, pay attention," the green-eyed brunette chided softly. He didn't sound angry, just worried and his tone, though barely above a whisper, was firm.  
  
It brought back memories--ones that plagued Romano's muddled mind more and more these days--memories of when he was a much younger nation.  
  
\--Much younger and far more brattier (Spain insists that he hasn't changed one bit and Romano punches him every time he does.)  
  
He was so much smaller and clumsier back then; always hurting himself in some way--tiny cuts, bruises, scratches-- tiny Romano had been very much familiar with them all.  
  
And Romano thinks that if there's anyone that hasn't changed, it's Spain.  
  
Loud, cheerful, dumb Spain. Still as silly, vibrant and caring as he was back then.  
  
Rushing to Romano's side whenever the younger had gotten hurt, with a gentle smile and even gentler hands.  
  
Watching Spain wrap his white handkerchief around his finger--eyes filled with nothing but pure sweetness--Romano feels he might get a toothache.  
  
Kind green eyes meet enthralled brown ones for split second before Romano's looking away, heat rising to his face and ears much like the lava in a volcano and Romano is almost certain he's going to erupt.  
  
"G-grazie," he sputters, "I didn't need your help though, dumbass, I could've handled it myself..."  
  
Spain laughs, soft and cheerful and Romano feels his heart brim with fondness.  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
Spain knocks his forehead against Romano's lightly and the small space between their faces smells of tomatoes (Because Spain, the absolute bastard, wouldn't stop stealing the tomatoes that Romano had been so diligently cutting up).  
  
Romano's tense, always so tense, muscles always so taut as if he was on high alert, ready to fight at all times (and he is! Spain knows that all too well!).  
  
But then Spain, much to Romano's delight, (though he'd never say it!) wraps his comforting arms around him and finally closes the gap between them eliciting a soft exhale from the Italian.  
  
The younger male's shoulders fall and suddenly all his limbs feel like jelly and Spain likes him like this--likes getting Romano to just relax.  
  
Spain's hands make their way to Romano's heated face, caressing and playfully squishing soft, flushed cheeks before tilting his own head to deepen their kiss.  
  
It's Spain's turn to sigh contentedly into the kiss when Romano's tongue flicks against his own.  
  
They pull apart just a minute later and Spain still has a stupid grin smeared across his face. Additionally, Romano's arms had been lazily thrown over the Spanish male's shoulders (when did that happen?).  
  
The Italian pulls away abruptly before lightly pushing against Spain's chest (Go away and stop looking so proud, bastard!); Spain laughs playfully and places a quick kiss to Romano's nose before shuffling back to where he had previously been grating cheese.  
  
Romano shouts in surprise and mock anger then spins on his heels and goes back to cutting up the tomatoes.  
  
The space falls tranquil and quiet once more and this time, Romano is the one whose face is donning the big, stupid grin.


End file.
